To Fight a Monster, To Save a Child
by Samantha J. Wolfe
Summary: Katniss has just won her first Hunger Games. She is in the woods outside of District 12 when suddenly her worst fears come back to haunt her.  This is basically my first fan-fic ever, so let me know it it's crap...  That was a terrible summary.


To Fight a Monster, To Save a Child 5

I have won the Hunger Games, Peeta is alive, and I am back in my home district. I should be the luckiest girl in the history of Panem, but I'm not. I did survive, yes, and my 'lover' with me, but at the cost of angering the most powerful man in the world. Snow had visited me, _in person_, purely for the sake of threatening me face-to-face. I can still smell the lingering odor of his flowers and the… blood; still see the look of contempt on his face.

I shudder at the memory as I wander aimlessly through the woods, holding my bow at the ready as a force of habit. A few hours pass, though I pay no attention to the time ticking by. I sit down on a rock and close my eyes, only to open them again just as quickly. I see images. Prim walking towards her doom, me stepping in her place; the memory of Cinna and his assistants; the sheer look of agony on Rue, innocent Rue's face as the spear pierces her. I see fire, death, blood. I can feel a pain, deep within my chest, burning in an unquenchable inferno of sorrow.

My vision is blurred as I stare hopelessly into the distance, but I am still able to make out a figure, running through the trees. It is a boy, no older than Prim or Rue, racing towards me. I blink away the tears and stand, raising my bow to attack whatever would make a young boy run with such terror as I could now see clearly written on his pale, frightened face.

The boy looks over his shoulder, oblivious to me in his terror-stricken state. He nearly knocks me over as he trips over a rock and tumbles into me. I use one hand to stop him, the other still holding my bow in a death grip. The boy looks up, confused recognition in his pale, green eyes. "K—Ka—Katniss?" His voice is raw and thin. "They—they're after me!"

I grab his shoulder and crouch low to meet him at eye-level. "Who's after you?" I ask, earnestly.

"Mutts," He whispers in horror. I shudder as I recall the memories. "Wolves. I—I was just hunting for food for my family…."

I pull back my bow, even as I fight the terror sinking deep in my limbs, causing them to shake and not work properly, and I stand as quickly as I physically can, already hearing the growling and sickening howls that still haunt my dreams. I take a deep, shuddering breath and release the arrow as soon as the first hound leaps into view. The arrow pierces its shoulder, though not enough to stop the mutt.

I whip out another arrow as a second beast joins the first, growling and staring with its unnatural human eyes. The first wolf pulls the arrow out of its shoulder with its teeth, drops it, and rears back to lunge, exposing its neck where, a second later, an arrow lodges itself, killing the hound.

As I grab a third arrow with shaky hands and pull the string back, I hesitate for the briefest of instants, staring into the dog's eyes. They are green, nearly mirroring my own, and the fur around them is dark. It looks like _me_; or rather, me as I would look in muttation form.

I force myself to remember that it is nothing but a brutal, trained mutt and release the arrow. In my short-lived hesitation, however, the dog leaps, and my shot does nothing more than skim the creature's fur. In the split-second before the wolf hits me, I hear the young boy behind me scream, see the wolf's open maw, the knife-like teeth, and reach for an arrow, though I know it will do no good.

The wolf is on me. The air leaves my lungs as order and reason leave my head and suddenly I am pounding against the hound, nothing real except for instinct: survive. Nothing else mattered. Images of Cato's death flash through my head as the wolf's razor sharp claws pierce my side. It is no longer mutt against human. It is a fight of animals as I struggle to kill the creature. I somehow manage to grab an arrow and use it to stab the mutt repeatedly, sanity completely gone as Hunger Games impulse creeps in.

The next thing I can remember is crawling out from beneath the wolf, standing in its blood and my own, the boy staring at me, in awe or fear, I can't tell.

The boy follows me, though he stays several yards behind me, as I make my way to the nearest stream, washing the gore off and cleaning my numerous wounds. I glance into my reflection in a small pool of still water, half expecting to see my face contorted from wounds like those of Cato's, but instead I find a teenager with wild hair and eyes to match, and a dirty face, streaked with sweat, numerous scratches, and perhaps even tears.

I scrub my face as well as I can, then turn my attention to the boy, who still watches me in fear and awe. "What are you doing out here?" I ask him, attempting to soothe his fears.

He looks at me, as though wondering why I'm speaking to him, or maybe just how anything so wild and dangerous could speak a civilized tongue, at all. I repeat the question, and he eventually replies, "My name's Rylan…. I was out here to hunt for my family…. My older brother got hurt in the mines, so he can't work and there's no food for us. I've been coming out here for a few weeks…."

My expression softens. This boy is just like me; just like Gale. Young, his family has no food, and he's put in responsibility. "What have you been using to hunt with?" I ask, gently.

He shrugs. "My knife…. traps I make out of rope."

I make a decision and grab his wrist gently, saying, "Come here. I have something to give you."

We walk for a few miles with me leading, despite the pain pulsing from each scratch and bruise, and eventually make it back to the place I keep my bow. I reach under the brush and hand him my old bow. His eyes widen and he looks up at me, speechless.

"You know how to use it?" I ask, pulling out a quiver of arrows and handing them to him as well. He shakes his head and, after I have used old rags also hidden in the bush to stop the bleeding coming from my torn flesh, I spend the next half hour showing him how to use it until eventually I am too weak and hurt to continue. The boy goes through the fence proudly holding two squirrels and a rabbit, thanking me over and over until he is several yards from the fence.

I smile and shake my head as he heads towards town in something between a jog and a run. After a few minutes, I build up my strength and crawl through the small gap in the fence. I make my way quickly to the old house that used to be my family's, though it

is long abandoned now, the only ones to enter it being myself and the hideous tomcat, Buttercup.

The mangy cat makes a scratching sound deep in its throat which I can only assume is meant to be a meow, and I step into the kitchen to find him standing awkwardly on the small table. "Well, what do you want?" I ask gruffly as I strip out of the bloodstained clothes and into my normal ones.

The cat meows again, jumping off the counter and hurrying out the window. I watch him go out as I throw the torn hunting clothes into a cabinet. Suddenly, I feel a wave of nausea pass through me, most likely from loss of blood, and I crumple to the ground, losing all awareness.

I wake up sometime later to Buttercup staring at me from a few feet away and a loud dispute taking place somewhere nearby. I sit up slowly, my head reeling, and stumble my way out of the house and towards the commotion. The sight my eyes takes in is shocking.

In the middle of the Hob, four Peacekeepers surround a figure, kicking and hitting him or her, I could not tell. The victim, who is huddled in a tight ball to ward off the blows, I cannot recognize, but I walk over to Greasy Sae, who watches the ruckus in disapproval.

"What's going on?" I ask, craning my neck to see the one on the ground over the Peacekeepers.

She scoffs, "Somebody told them Peacekeepers that that there boy'd been huntin' in the forest. I reckon 'e was, but that aint no reason t' tell nobody." I feel pity for the boy, but Greasy Sae isn't done talking. "And they 'ad the nerve t' say the boy killed a _mutt_! Found a weapon on 'im too, no less. The one what turned 'im in told the Peacekeepers the boy's name was Rylan. I've seem 'im around a good few times, and 'e seemed like an okay kid. Pity, really…."

Fury makes my cheeks flush hot and I start towards the Peacekeepers, only to get stopped by a strong, firm hand on my shoulder. I try to shrug it off, but it only grips tighter, turning me to face its owner. Suddenly I am face-to-face with Gale, who has a grave look of concern on his face. "Where on earth do you think you're going?" He asks in an admonishing tone. The flush in my cheeks turns to one of embarrassment. I try to answer him and tell him what _exactly_ I was doing, but find I cannot. I didn't have a plan. Was I just going to rush in there and yell blindly at them?

Gale continues. "And you're bleeding, too! What happened to you?" I manage to tell him everything that happened, though it is a struggle to speak past the knot in my throat, and, when I finish, he says, "We need to get you back to the house. Come on!"

I struggle against him and tell him in a voice louder than I meant for it to be, "No!" He looks startled and lets go of me. "We can't just _leave_ him to this!"

Gale sighs and clenches and unclenches his jaw muscles. After a moment, he says in an authoritative voice, "Go to the house. I'll catch up with you later."

"What are you going to do?" I ask in a worried tone.

"It doesn't matter, just go!"

I glower in helpless rage and back away from him. After a moment, I turn and push my way through the crowd gathering to watch Rylan's beating. I turn around again after I am a short way up the hill, far enough away to go unnoticed, but close enough to watch what was happening in the Hob. My eyes widen as I see Gale step into the circle of gathered people and pull one Peacemaker away from the boy, who appears to have lost his strength and lies helplessly on the ground.

I cannot hear what Gale said to the man; I can only see him angrily gesturing and pointing towards the woods. The Peacemaker questions him on something, and Gale nods vigorously, again pointing in the direction of the woods, far north of where the gap in the fence is. I nearly lose consciousness again, but manage to stay awake, determined to see what happens.

Gale says something else, which makes the Peacekeeper laugh; _never_ a good thing. The man's comrades leave the boy alone, crumpled in a ball like paper carelessly thrown away. The first Peacekeeper, the one Gale had pulled away from Rylan, gets inches away from Gale's face and says something, the look on his face one of menace. A second later, Gale is on the ground, his hand gripping his waist where the man had kneed him.

I run down the hill as fast as I can, ignoring all pain, and grab a woman near the back of the crowd. I take her shawl, hand her as much money as is on my person, and wrap it around my face. I then push through the crowd, ignoring their curses and angry mutterings at me, focused only on the middle of the circle.

After what seems like an eternity, I stumble out of the crowd and into the center. The Peacekeepers don't notice me, so intent they are in their beating of Gale, and I use the ignorance to my advantage, grabbing a whip off of one man's belt and using it to pull him to the ground. I pull it back and whip it around another's neck, strangling him. I don't know whether I killed him or not, but I don't really want to check, either.

By this time, the Peacekeepers have focused their full attention to me, grimaces of pain and loathing on their faces. I am in great pain, but I manage to say, in a strange, garbled accent not my own, "Stop! I'm the one you want. I killed your precious wolves, and that boy had done nothing but gotten curious and figured a way through the fence. If you want to beat someone up, I'm your person." I show the blood that is seeping through my shirt as proof, and then run as fast as I can away from the angry Peacekeepers.

I know the Seam inside and out, and I have found many hiding places, some better than others, in my sixteen years living there. I duck into one of these small, dirty sanctuaries, a cellar, and stay, panting and bleeding, for several minutes as they search for me. I spend the time using my newly bought shawl to put pressure on my bleeding wounds, though I can feel the strength ebbing out of me.

About a half hour to an hour later, I hear a small rap on the door to the cellar. I don't move. I hear a sigh and then Gale's voice saying, "It's me. They've given up. 'Too much work,' they said." I open the door and blink into the light. Gale shakes his head at me reproachfully, but he has a grin on his face. "One of these days you're gonna get yourself hurt," he says sarcastically, gripping my shoulders to steady me as I sway precariously.

We make it back to the large house without incident, and meet my mother. She gasps and helps me to a couch, where she instantly begins to work on my wounds, berating me and praising me for what I did. I smile and close my eyes as she and Prim clean and dress my cuts properly.


End file.
